Chapter Two

How are you holding up, Stinky? Good, good. I hope you don’t mind me playing some of my concertina. I feel a haunting, maybe a little mischievous tune coming on…

     Witches and goblins

      Are serious frights.

     Pray at your bedside,

For monsters are lurking tonight…

You know, a tune like this perfectly fits that one time when a band of hooligans scurried within the mauve shadows of scummy alleyways. If you yourself saw the silhouettes of these figures, you would probably toss that drink you’re having, for these were not human figures. Sure, some may appear human enough, but they had appendages like fins, horns, or tails construing that familiar shape. Many didn’t look human at all! One might as well’ve been a big, bulbous fur-ball running on tin cans for legs. Another hissing figure with arms slithered at a pace ahead of a translucent, blobbish form.

These figures ran down the tight space between two large buildings, which, logically, would have been too tall for you to see their rooftops. Yet you could, for you can say, without the eyes’ warping habits, that the buildings were indeed crooked and bent at different floors.

The hooligans stopped a can-kick away from a violet silhouette outlined by the golden glare from the main street. Not only a glare, but a clamor of inhuman splendor. An ex-human like you would have recognized this silhouette’s shape instantly, for it was identically human, without any extra bells or whistles or arms. But I assure you now—despite appearances, this creature was far from being a human being of any kind, and, possibly, was secretly more monstrous than the previous band of creatures combined.

“‘Bout time you guys showed up,” growled the humanoid, lowering his gray tweed cap moreover his brow. “You ready?”

“Just you, Graffiti?” asked a teen swamp monster, his mauve shadow now detailed by the yellow glow. “Where’s d’boss?”

“He’s put me in charge of the operation. C’mon.”

“You in charge?” scoffed the big fur-ball monster. “The rookie? You’ve only been in our gang for measly months.”

“Really? Only months? Wow, what news!” said Graffiti, sarcastically. “If your hairy ass forgot already, I knew the boss for eight years. So guess what? He’s put me in charge. You done wasting time?” Silence. “Good. You know the rendezvous point. Everyone split up and take different routes. The streets may be crowded, but we cannot risk attracting the houndanths’ attention. Move fast and let’s go.”

“I ain’t movin’ till I see d’boss!”

“For crying out— He’ll meet us at the clock tower. Happy? Get goin’!” Graffiti’s voice cracked at an untimely manner. There was a snickering about the thugs when the fur-ball monster full-blown guffawed. Graffiti, blushing wildly, twisted the fur-ball’s arm behind his back until the monster cried uncle.

“I said move it!” said Graffiti, shoving him off. The grumbling crew set off once again into the overwhelming light. Some went straight up, scaling the buildings’ walls for a rooftop route.

“Tĕ●Krēs,” said Graffiti, exasperated. “Just this night. Just this night. Then I’ll finally be free from this dumbass gang,” and he darted into the flood of streetlights. All the while, a scarfed bat fluttered above them, underneath the clear night sky of the three full moons.

You heard me right. Three full moons: one red, one green, and one blue, all in a perfect triangle formation. This could only mean one thing.

Welcome to Hallows Earth, Stinky. A wonderfully wretched place, don’t you agree? Erm, probably not, what with you being from Normal Earth and all. How’s the breathing going? Terrible, I bet. All humans turn up like fish out of water here. I would sympathize you for dying coming here and all but… HA-HA-HA-HOO-HOO-HORF!

Hoo! boy… where was I? Ah, yes. You probably know next to nothing about our monster world. So how ‘bout we start with something basic. Have your heard of the Hallows-wide holiday called “The Tri-Carnival?”

We creatures adore the creepiness of the night, especially when it came to the moon phases for reasons plenty. When all three of our moons are shining full and align to form a perfect triangle (a rare lunar happenstance that occurs once every four years), we celebrate. We celebrate big. And in the spirit of the celebration, I’ll play yah something a little jazzy, a little jiggy, a little trill fit for a night of debauchery.

So without further ado...!

“Happy Tri-Carnival!” barked a drunken werewolf, his green fur covered in a fresco of colorful dots. He howled then wolfed down an over-sized jelly-bean full of sloshing liquor. He fell over in drunken stupor, causing a mummy wrapped in glittering linen and standing high on stilts to trip and fall into the monstrous crowd. The bystanders parted and laughed as he crashed onto the cobblestone road. Among the mirth and mayhem, the crowds of monsters reveled in their mastered craft of merriment, all singing in unison a popular carnival song in cackles, howls, growls, and croons.

     With the three moons

            shining bright

           in the sable sky,

  O aren’t you in for a treat, 

            to-ooh-night?

Join in the sins of our breth-er-ren,

       For we are mas-ters 

            of the niiiiight!

          In every creak,

             every howl,

       every sha-ah-dow,

Harbors the thrills of demon 

            en-ter-prise.

Goodbye forever and up--yours--too,

              If you say 

           you side with 

            the liiiiight!

                  Wee!